


I'm Sorry, I'm An Asshole

by TheReluctantShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alive Mary Winchester, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bartender Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Caring John Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Good Parent John Winchester, Lawyer Castiel, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mary Lives, Mechanic Dean, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Oral Sex, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: The day after, Dean Winchester goes into work, just like normal. He mixes drinks, pours beers, flirts a little, and wipes down the bar, all just like normal. No one asks him about it, and he ignores the pity in their eyes.Shouldn’t have done it in the parking lot.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I don't own anything but the original characters. I don't claim ownership over the characters or storyline of the TV show Supernatural, no matter how grateful I am for them, which is hella.
> 
> \- Thanks to the Sister Husbands, who are my best friends in the whole world, and happen to be gracious enough to also beta most of my works for me. I don't know what I'd do without you girls, but I certainly wouldn't be doing this.

The day after, Dean Winchester goes into work, just like normal. He mixes drinks, pours beers, flirts a little, and wipes down the bar, all just like normal. No one asks him about it, and he ignores the pity in their eyes.

_ Shouldn’t have done it in the parking lot. _

* * *

**From: Mom  
** Honey, are you doing okay?

**To: Mom  
** dont wanna talk bout it ma

**From: Mom  
** Oh, I know, sweetheart, I’m just checking on you.

**To: Mom  
** im fine

**From: Mom  
** You know you can talk to me, though, right?

**To: Mom  
** yeah i kno

* * *

The second day after, Dean does the same thing. The routine is soothing, if nothing else.

Not that he needs to be soothed, because he’s fine.

Really. Dean’s fine.

* * *

Dean works at the Roadhouse with Ellen (who’s like a second mother), Jo (who’s like a crazy little sister), and Ash (who defies description), all of whom are shooting him puppy dog eyes and treating him with kid gloves. It’s making him homicidal.

He’s getting ready to load the last load of glasses into the dishwasher, about to heave the big stacking rack off of the bar, when he feels Ellen’s calloused hand on his arm.

“Dean,” she says gently, “Why don’t you head home?”

Dean closes his eyes and counts to five before responding. “‘M fine, Ellen.”

“I know you are, honey, you’ve just been working so hard-”

“No harder than usual.”

There’s just a beat of hesitation this time. “Dean-”

“Ellen, I swear to Christ, if you are about to mention him, or what happened, or send me home early for  _ any _ other reason than that I fucked up on the job somehow, please, I’m fucking begging you,  _ please _ don’t.”

Another silence, then, “All right, then. Finish up.”

* * *

**From: Sam  
** For the love of God, please talk to our mother.

**To: Sam  
** no

**From: Sam  
** Look, I get that you don’t want to talk about it. Just tell her you’re all right.

**To: Sam  
** i told her im fine! jfc

**From: Sam  
** Then get better at acting.

* * *

The garage is a haven from the drama. Not only did It (and It’s already taken up Capital Letter status in Dean’s mind, which is just fucking great) not happen here, but Bobby, Benny, and Victor couldn’t care less if they  _ tried. _

Or so Dean thought.

“So, I heard about Cas, brother,” Benny says, his head buried in the engine of a Ford, like he’s not casually mentioning one of the worst things that’s ever happened to Dean.

The wrench that Dean drops in shock makes a  _ very _ loud clanging noise.  _ “What?” _

“The hell?” Bobby snipes, coming in from the office with a frown.

“We’re talking about Dean’s love life,” Victor says easily. “It’s not going well.”

Bobby sighs. “Yeah, heard about Cas.”

Dean is absolutely horrified, deep down to his bones.  _ “How?” _

“Ash called.”

“... Ash called  _ who?” _

Bobby rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just… Ah…” He clears his throat gruffly. “Sorry to hear it.”

Dean blinks in absolute surprise, then slowly puts his tools down and starts shaking his head. “Nope, nope, I’m not doing this with you people.” He points to each of them individually, glaring at them. “I’m taking an early lunch, and when I get back,  _ we are not talking about this.” _

“Not healthy to bottle things up, Winchester.” Victor’s eyes are sparkling with mirth, damn him.

“Fuck you.”

Dean climbs into the Impala in his coveralls, which is already a sign that he’s not in the right headspace. He’s usually meticulous about making sure he’s clean before he’s anywhere near his baby, but he just… He just doesn’t have it in him today.

He drives about halfway to town and pulls over on the side of the road. He turns the Impala off and just sits there, listening to her motor tick as she cools. He gently places his forehead against the steering wheel, closes his eyes, and tries very hard to breathe.

And he does  _ not _ cry.

* * *

**From: Dad  
** wanna come watch the game today

**To: Dad  
** ma put u up to this?

**From: Dad  
** y? would that change ur answer?

**To: Dad  
** fine

* * *

Watching the game goes smoothly, because Dean is cut from the same cloth as John Winchester. They don’t talk about Castiel Novak, or It, or any damn thing that isn’t related to football. They drink beer, bitch about the refs, and Dean gets ready to go.

He almost even makes it out the door.

“Dean, listen…”

Dean turns around, pausing in the act of putting his leather jacket on. When he sees his dad, his blood runs cold.

John doesn’t really  _ do _ awkward. He’s gruff, yeah, and stubborn. He’s insistent, and mostly closed-off. But “awkward” has never been a word used to describe John Winchester.

Now, he’s avoiding eye contact, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and rubbing the back of his neck. Awkward.

_ Oh, shit. _

“Your mother wanted me to-”

“Dad, please, for the love of God,” Dean begs. “Don’t do this.”

Unfortunately for Dean, John Winchester is a man who has only one master, and she’s a five-foot-eight-inch blonde terror named Mary Winchester.

“Son, I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“Can’t we just  _ say _ we had a good, long talk?”

“When have either of us ever been able to lie to your mother?”

Dean groans and leans back against the wall. “Fuck.”

John leans next to him, posture almost identical. “I agree.”

Dean runs a hand hard over his mouth. “All right. What do you want me to say?”

“Well... How are you?”

“Like shit, Dad. I’m like shit.”

John nods, undeterred. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I just… What does everyone want me to say?” Dean’s voice does  _ not _ break, thank you very fucking much. “It sucks, it’s over, I’ll move on.”

John’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he speaks again. “Dean, this ain’t a normal break-up.”

Dean’s vision clouds. “Dad…”

“We all know Cas was different.”

“Yeah, well, clearly not that different.”

“He thought he was helping.”

“He wasn’t.”

John sighs. “I know, son. I just…”

“Dad, I  _ can’t,” _ Dean finally says what he’s been thinking, what he knows. “I can’t be with someone who thinks I’m… Less.”

“You’re goddamn right you can’t,” John says fiercely. After a beat, he heaves a sigh and relaxes against the wall again. “But I don’t think he does, Dean. I think he really was just… Trying to help.”

Dean can’t do this anymore. He shoves off the wall and walks out the door. “See you later.”

“Dean!  _ Dean!” _

* * *

Dean stops at a liquor store on the way home because he has the day off from both of his jobs tomorrow and he plans on staying sloppy, fall-down drunk for at  _ least _ the next twelve hours.

When he gets back to his apartment, however, someone is leaning against his door.

Dean scowls. “What the fuck do  _ you _ want?”

Gabriel Novak looks up from his phone and rolls his eyes. “Nothing to do with this whole fuck up, trust me.”

Dean nods. “Great, then go the fuck away.”

Gabe shakes his head. “No can do, Dean-o.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Gabe, man, we’ve been friends for a long time, but I do  _ not _ want to talk to you about this.”

“Well, that’s not really up to you.”

“It is if I call the cops on you.”

It’s Gabe’s turn for an eye roll. “Like hell you will. Come on, let’s go inside.”

Dean waits for another moment, then unlocks the door and pushes the door open to let the shorter man in first. “Whatever it takes to get you to go away.”

* * *

Several hours later, and several (probably ill-advised) shots later, Dean is slumped over in his recliner, listening to Gabriel wax poetic about Kali, who is quite the firecracker. She and Gabe have been on and off again since Dean has known Gabe, which has been a very, very long time.

Gabe is silent for a while, and Dean reflects.

He met Gabe during a…  _ Rebellious _ phase in high school. Gabe was a small-time pot dealer who took a shine to Dean, and they became fast friends. Dean didn’t know Cas was Gabe’s brother until they’d already been dating for a few weeks.

As if summoned by Dean’s thoughts, Gabe sobers a little. “Dean.”

Dean shakes his head. “Noooop. Noop, we’re not doing this.”

Gabe scoffs, and Dean figures that about sums it up, because he is definitely a little bit too drunk to walk away. “Yeah, all right, hot stuff. Let’s talk about Cassie.” There’s only a little bit of a slur there, because the Novak boys have always had ridiculously high tolerances for alcohol.

_ (Dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, a wide, gummy smile. “I think I’m starting to feel something.” _

_ “You’re fucking with me!” _

_ Cas laughs again. “Of course I am.” He puts the shot glass down, then leans across the table until he’s close enough that their lips are brushing. “I don’t feel a damn thing.”) _

Dean’s head lolls back against the back of the chair. “Can we not?”

“Dean, Cas has been fucking miserable.”

“Yeah, well, he can join the fucking club.”

“You know he didn’t mean it.”

Dean looks at Gabriel and feels remarkably sober for a man who’s had as much tequila as he’s had. “You know as well as I do that Cas doesn’t do a damn thing he doesn’t mean.”

Gabe sighs. “He’s… Dean, I mean it, he’s a fucking nightmare to be around.”

“Yeah, well, that pretty much officially became not my damn problem anymore four days ago. So I don’t care.”

* * *

Dean has one hell of a hangover, and does not feel better at all, but Gabe does leave him some weed, so he’s not empty-handed.

At least, that’s what Dean tells himself.

* * *

**From: Mom  
** Dean, honey, please talk to me.

**To: Mom  
** drop it ma

**From: Mom  
** Castiel called me.

_ click! _

“Don’t be mad.”

“What the  _ fuck _ do you mean, he  _ called you?” _

“He’s just reaching out, trying to get a hold of you. He says you haven’t been answering your phone.”

“I blocked his number, like any  _ normal person would do.” _

“He’s so sorry, I think if you just-”

“Wow. All right, this conversation is over.”

“Dean,  _ please-” _

“No, mom. I know you don’t understand, but I kind of needed you in my corner on this one.” A deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Dean, honey, I’m  _ always-” _

“Love you, ma. Bye.”

_ click! _

* * *

It’s a week to the day since It, and Dean has taken to outright glaring at anyone who tries to be nice to him. As a result, Ellen kicked him off of the bar and back to dishwashing duty so he can’t mean mug the patrons.

_ Hmph. _

He’s angrily scrubbing a pitcher when Jo comes into the kitchen. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he sees the expression on her face. “Jo? Everything all right?”

“You… Need to come outside, Dean.”

He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… Come with me.”

He sets the dishes down carefully and follows her out. There’s some murmuring when he’s out in the bar, but other than that, relative silence.

Which is not normal for a Friday night.

He’s starting to get worried when Jo leads him to the front door, then stops and turns around. Her eyes are shining, her face earnest. “Just… Be careful, okay?”

Dean stares at her, but doesn’t comment. He just pushes the front door open and steps out onto the wrap around porch. Once there, his heart stops.

He looks…  _ Good. _ His black hair, always sex-wild, his wide shoulders, his slim hips. He’s wearing a tux, which makes him look like walking sex. His eyes are hard to discern because it’s night and he’s facing away from the moon, but Dean would be able to see the blue in them anywhere.

“Cas,” he breathes.

“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper)


	2. Chapter Two

Dean never wanted to go to college. He was barely able to stay in high school long enough to graduate, there was no reason to go to college. He knows it broke his mother’s heart a little, but he also knew it wasn’t for him.

Instead, he got a job at his uncle Bobby’s garage. When that just barely covered the bills, and gave him too much free time to boot, he got a second job at Harvelle’s Roadhouse. Ellen, Jo, and Ash quickly became part of the surrogate family he built around himself.

Dean’s  _ happy _ with his life. Dean doesn’t  _ want _ a fancy job, or a billion dollar company. Dean likes working on cars every day, he likes the never ending rhythm of the bar. He likes the people he works with, he likes the work he does.

When Sammy got into Stanford, Dean was fucking  _ stoked. _ He’s so fucking proud of Sam, getting to be a hotshot lawyer like he always wanted to be. He’s never been as happy as he was when Sam got accepted into the law program. Because of the way Dean is set up with his  _ perfectly good two jobs, _ he even got to send Sam money whenever the kid needed a little extra for books or clothes or whatever he needed while he was at college full time.

So, yeah. Dean’s not ashamed of who he is, or what he does, or who he loves. He’s  _ never _ been ashamed of any of that.

Until It.

* * *

Dean met Castiel Novak at one of the fancy lawyer parties that Sam’s firm throws a few times a year. It was before Sam met Jess, so he had to bring his big brother along. Dean went because it was nice to see for himself that Sam was in his element, that everything he worked so hard for was gonna pan out. The open bar didn’t hurt, either.

When Cas sat down next to him, Dean flirted cautiously. There’s no such thing as too careful, being gay in the Bible Belt, and Dean’s gotten his ass kicked a few times for hitting on the wrong guy.

Cas responded immediately, though, and that was all she wrote.

* * *

Being with Cas was like nothing Dean had ever experienced.

Cas was smart as hell, with a dry sense of humor and a jarringly ferocious passion for the environment. The ease with which he arranged himself in Dean’s life… Probably should have made Dean wary. It normally would have had him running for the hills, but with Cas, it just seemed… Right.

Cas didn’t give a fuck what Dean did for a living. He introduced Dean proudly as a jack of all trades, his blue eyes sparkling in defiance, daring someone to try to belittle his boyfriend. It was hot as hell.

And the  _ sex. _ That first night, Cas took Dean home for a “nightcap” (who says “nightcap anymore? And who uses air quotes  _ ever?) _ and ended up fucking him into the mattress, leaving him grinning and dopey and unable to sit comfortably the next day.

They had long movie marathons curled up on Dean’s couch (which usually ended with lazy blowjobs), took drives to nowhere (which usually ended with sex in Baby’s backseat), and morning after breakfast dates almost every weekend (which resulted in getting permanently banned from two separate Denny’s locations). It was relaxed, perfect. Dean fell hard and fast.

They said their first, “I love you’s” two months in, and never stopped saying it.

* * *

(Even now) Dean loves almost everything about the bastard. His ridiculous hair, which Cas gave up on trying to tame in high school. The way he doesn’t really care about the way he looks, but is just vain enough to refuse to wear his glasses when they go out. The way he gets so absorbed in reading whatever it is he’s reading that he’ll forget to eat unless Dean essentially force feeds him. Dean loves it all.

Not to say that Dean doesn’t see Cas’ flaws. He snores like a fucking chainsaw, he’s unbearable until he’s had at least two cups of coffee in the mornings, and he  _ jogs, _ for God’s sake.

He’s also probably never apologized for one single goddamn thing in his entire, stupid life.

Cas is thoughtful, sweet, a fucking madman in bed, and all around almost perfect. So Dean is able to overlook the bad, because he’s well aware that he’s no saint himself, and because that’s what you do when you’re in love. You deal.

Until you can’t.

* * *

The beginning of the end starts on a Monday.

They’ve been dating for eight months now, and Dean is as happy as he’s ever been. Well… Not this  _ second, _ but in general.

He walks into his house and is gratified to see Cas’ suitcase and trench coat there in the entryway. He shuts his eyes for a moment to let himself be so, so relieved that his boyfriend is already here, and that he won’t have to call and ask him to come over.

(The whole “asking for help” thing is something that Dean’s been working on for Cas.)

When he gets into the living room after kicking his boots off, Cas is already on one end of the couch, reading. Dean’s not surprised when he doesn’t look up, he really  _ does _ get absorbed into his books.

Dean crawls into the couch lengthwise until his head is close enough to lay on Cas’ lap. Without preamble, he proceeds to do just that, pushing the big book out of the way and pressing his face into Cas’ belly. “Mmph.”

“Hello, Dean.” Cas doesn’t complain about the obvious (and ridiculous) bid for physical attention. He just sets his book aside, settles deeper into the couch, and starts to run his fingers soothingly through Dean’s short hair. If Dean were a cat, he’d be purring. As it is, he moans deeply and snuggles closer.

“Rough lunch?”

The Winchesters have a family lunch once a month. It’s such an ingrained tradition that Sam either drove or flew out as often as he could while in school. Now, he’s so busy with internship, he doesn’t always get to come. Unfortunately, today was one of those days, and of  _ course _ it’s the day that Dean needed backup.

“Mom started in on me about college again,” Dean mumbles into Cas’ stomach. Unintelligible to anyone else, maybe, but Cas has been fluent in Dean Winchester for months now, and barely bats an eye.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs as much as he can. “‘S all right. I just hate it.”

Cas’ fingers never stop their steady, slow ministrations. “I know.”

“Like, even if I  _ did _ wanna go back to school, who the hell is going to pay for it? Most of my extra money goes to Sam these days, anyway, because that fucking scam you work for barely pays him. Where the hell does she expect me to get that kind of money?”

Cas hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t offer any advice. It could be because he knows that there is no advice for this situation, because Mary Winchester might never end her crusade to get her eldest son into higher education. It could be because he doesn’t have any ideas on how to get Dean’s mom off his back.

Either way, he just stills his hand and looks down at Dean in his lap. “What do you think of Thai food for dinner?”

Dean smiles up at his boyfriend, because avoidance of a problem is kind of his jam, and Cas knows damn well what he thinks about Thai food for dinner.

“Hell, yeah.”

* * *

The end is on a Thursday night. It’s a few days after the Winchester Family Lunch, and Dean is  _ done. _

It’s been a shit shift, full of one dollar tips and assholes. Normally Dean has a pretty high tolerance for it, he really does, but it’s just not his day today. He’s still feeling a little raw after getting into it with his mother, and as much as talking to Cas helps, it’s still a sore spot.

So it’s with great relief that he spies Cas’ mess of hair come through the doors of Harvelle’s. He grins and walks around the bar, feeling something in him chill out a little bit when Cas’ eyes light up at the sight of him.

“Hey, handsome,” he says with a grin, slipping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck easily.

Cas’ arms go around his waist, just as casual. “Hello, Dean.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could use some company at work.” Cas’ eyes shift to the left, and Dean looks at him closely, but can’t find any signs that he’s outright lying. Maybe he’s having an off day, too.

Dean smiles. “All righty. My break’s in fifteen, wanna grab a booth and wait for me?”

“Of course.”

Dean makes the rounds, wiping down the bar as he goes. He fills the few bowls on the bar with pretzels, makes sure everyone’s settled properly, and whips his apron off. “Jo! Break!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Jo comes out of the kitchen, tying her own apron around her waist. “Go suck face with McHandsome, I’ve got you.”

“You’re a peach, Harvelle.”

“Bite me, Winchester.”

Dean blows her a kiss as he rounds the bar, then lets her vacate his mind completely when he sees Cas, already standing at the door, waiting for him to go outside.

They circle around the building until they’re on the side, hidden from prying eyes, and Dean pulls Cas in close, leaning his own back against the brick wall and pulling his boyfriend to his chest. “Hey,” he murmurs again.

Cas’ eyes are bright. “Hello.”

Dean nuzzles Cas’ jaw, loving the stubble there. “I ever tell you you’re the best?”

“You’ll think so even more in a moment.”

Dean leans back and cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah?” Cas nods and smiles, and his excitement is a little catching.  “Why’s that?”

“I can pay for the classes you want to take.”

It honest to God takes Dean a few seconds to catch up. “The… What?”

Cas’ eyes are earnest. “The classes you want to take at the college. I want to pay for them for you.”

Dean feels the hairs on the back of his neck go up, and he stands up a little straighter, starts to put some distance between himself and Castiel. “I don’t want to take any classes.”

“You said you wanted to, but you couldn’t afford it.”

“Cas-“

“And I can pay for them for you, so you can finally go!”

It’s the “finally” that starts to rankle. “What?”

Cas is really warming to his subject, and must not hear the ice in Dean’s voice. “Then your mother can stop complaining, you won’t have to be forever explaining yourself, and even if you never actually graduate, you’re certainly smart enough to get a certificate of some sort, at least.”

Dean’s in shock. That’s the only explanation for the dizziness, the way his face is numb, the pounding of his heart. “That’s real charitable of you, Cas,” he bites out.

Ah, here it is. It’s starting to sink in that Dean isn’t as over the moon as Cas is. He frowns. “Dean?”

“But, uh, I’m not gonna do that.” Dean takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself down. Cas doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, he knows, and maybe he’s being a little sensitive about the whole issue. Just because is from a rich family doesn’t mean that he looks  _ down _ on Dean-

“You said you wanted to better yourself,” Cas says, tilting his head with a frown. “You said the only reason you haven’t already is because of money.”

_ -better yourself better yourself better yourself better yourself- _

“You should go home, Castiel,” Dean says faintly.

“Dean? What’s wrong? What did I do?”

Dean sidesteps his way out from between Cas and the wall. He’s looking out at the street, trying to understand the pain that’s starting just around the edges of his chest.

_ -better yourself better yourself better yourself better yourself- _

“You think I need to better myself?” Dean hates how soft his voice is, how pained and rough it sounds.

Cas looks like he just got slapped. “What?”

“Not good enough for you as is, Cas?”

“What are you talking about?”

Cas’ continued ignorance is starting to infuriate Dean. “Is it the money? I know I don’t make as much as a hotshot lawyer, but I do all right.” Goddamn right he does all right, owns his own three-bedroom house, owns his car, and is able to help Sam out a little when he needs it still, doesn’t he?

“Dean, I never said you don’t make enough money.”

“Then what is it, Cas? Is it the smarts thing?” Dean barks out a humorless laugh. “‘Course it is, not as smart as you, am I? Don’t got a degree on the wall.”

Cas frowns. “Dean, what are you talking about? I’m well aware you don’t have a degree.”

_ Well, that’s that then. _ “You know what? Go home, Cas. Just… Go home. I’ll call you later. I gotta get back in.”

He starts to step away, but Cas grabs his arm to hold him in place. “You just got out here.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“Dean, please, I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Dean sighs. “I know you-”

“I thought you didn’t want to be just a bartender, or a mechanic, anymore?”

_ -better yourself just a bartender anymore better yourself just a mechanic anymore better yourself just a bartender- _

Dean slowly turns back toward Cas, searching his face for… Something, Dean doesn’t know what. Whatever it is, though, it’s not there.

“Look, I just need some space right now. We can talk about this later.”

Cas is frowning. “I’d prefer to talk about it now. What did I say?”

Dean counts to five before responding. “Cas, if we talk now, I’m gonna get pissed, and I don’t wanna do that.”

“Dean, please-”

_ Fine. _ “Fine, you wanna know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is you’re slumming it with ‘just a bartender,’ or ‘just a mechanic.’ What’s wrong is I didn’t go to college because I lack ambition, or I’m not smart enough, or  _ whatever _ it is that you’re going to tell yourself when you’re trying to justify why this,” he gestures between the two of them, “fell apart.”

Cas looks like he just got slapped. “Fell… Dean, what? Are you…”

“Breaking up with you? Yeah, I guess I am, Cas.”

“I… Don’t understand.”

Dean rolls his eyes. He knows that his voice is raising, he knows that he’s being a little crazy, but he can’t stop it. “I can’t do this with you if you don’t think I’m good enough, Cas.”

“Dean, I never said-”

“Well, then what the hell was that, about classes?!”

“You said you wanted to go!” Now Cas is shouting, too, and Dean is certain they’re attracting an audience, but damn him if he can take his eyes off of Cas for even a moment to check.

“No, I didn’t! I was bitching about Mom!”

“You said you couldn’t afford it! I was offering to help, because when you’re in love with someone, you help them!”

“When you’re in love with someone, you  _ love them the way they are!” _

“Of  _ course _ I love you the way you are, Dean!” Cas is outright yelling now. “You are the one who said you were interested in bettering yourself-”

_ “I don’t need to better myself!” _

“Is that what this is about? For Christ’s sake, Dean, it’s just a turn of phrase!”

“No, fuck you, Cas. Go home. I might call you later, but I can’t do this with you right now.”

Dean knows he’s being an asshole. He just needs some space, he needs to be away from Cas for a few minutes. He’ll call his boyfriend later tonight, apologize, try to extract an apology of his own, and make up with him. For now, though, anger is swirling just beneath his skin, making him buzz with resentment.

He turns to walk back into the bar before Cas’ voice stops him.

“Dean Winchester, if you walk back into that bar before we’re done with this discussion, we are  _ over.” _

He turns slowly to look at Cas. He takes in his blue eyes, his plush lips, his  _ insane _ cheekbones. He thinks about his sex hair, and how incredible it is to sometimes know that it  _ is _ actually that way because of sex, not just because Cas gave up years ago on figuring out how to style it. He thinks about how dry Cas’ humor is, how passionate Cas can be.

He thinks about how much he’ll miss him.

“This isn’t a ‘discussion,’ it’s a  _ fight,” _ he spits, hiding how his entire chest has started to ache with the venom in his voice. “And we  _ are _ over, Cas.”

He turns and walks into the bar without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper)


	3. Chapter Three

So here Dean is, staring at the man that he’s desperately trying to convince himself is his ex, who’s standing in the dusty parking lot of a run-down bar in Kansas, looking for all the world like he’s just stepped out of an opera hall.

Dean crosses his arms, fighting the urge to go to him. “What are you doing here, Cas?”

Cas is actually, literally  _ wringing his hands, _ which not only has Dean never seen, but is a nervous habit. Dean can’t remember a time when Cas was nervous. Why would he be now?

Unless…

“I’m sorry,” Cas says frankly. “I’m an asshole.”

He’s no longer wringing his hands, instead they’re spread wide in supplication, and Dean is dizzy. Dizzy because something painful and tight in his chest that has remain unacknowledged for a week has finally released its hold on him. Released its hold on him because it’s starting to dawn on Dean that this might not be over, after all.

“It’s… All right,” he breathes out as he starts down the first stair, the first step to being on level footing with the person he’s kinda always known is the love of his life. “I overreacted.”

“Maybe to the moment,” Cas admits with a wry smile, “but not to the sentiment.” Cas takes a deep breath and looks away, like he’s nervous again, and it really is starting to occur to Dean that, against all odds, maybe he is as important to Cas as Cas himself is to Dean.

“Dean, you are so…  _ Secure, _ within yourself. Your accomplishments, your employment, your education level. I have never looked down on you, but I have been almost unbearably envious of you. I… I am not secure, I am constantly fighting to make myself better. Not because I believe in that, necessarily, but because I do not believe I am good enough.”

Dean feels like he’s gotten a ton of bricks dropped onto his head. “Cas…” he whispers, pained.

“And when you said that you couldn’t afford school, I was so…  _ Relieved, _ that you had something you wanted to work on, that I completely ignored the first part of what you said. I was so excited to help you do this thing, to help you…  _ Advance,” _ (and the disgust in his voice is entirely turned inward, letting Dean know without saying it out loud that it is a thought that Cas is disappointed in himself for having) “that it never occurred to me that you were just… That you are perfect the way you are, still, and that I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.”

Cas looks so vulnerable when he meets Dean’s gaze again, he looks so young and wanting and  _ sorry _ that Dean’s throat closes up a little. “Cas, we don’t gotta do this in public,” he says hoarsely, coming down another step, another bit closer to Cas.

“We fought about it in public, and we will reconcile in public,” Cas says easily, like he’s not baring everything out here, like he’s not laying it all out on the gravel for anyone to see.

“Cas…”

“I quit my job at the firm.” Cas says it quickly, like he wants to get it out, like ripping a Band-Aid off.

Dean’s mouth actually drops open.  _ “What?” _

“It’s… The job is more corporate than anything. I’ve spoken to a few of the others, Inias and Hester, mostly, and we’re going to open our own firm. It will be…” He runs a hand through his hair, disheveling it more, distracting as hell. “It will be significantly less money, and longer hours, which means that I will have less time to spend with you, but we’ll be able to really start helping people on our own terms.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at Dean again. “I think it’s about time I start bettering myself for real.”

_ “Cas.” _

Just as Dean steps down to the gravel, Cas drops gracefully to his knees, his (probably exceedingly expensive) pants getting dusty and wrinkled as he stares up adoringly at Dean.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his ridiculous diesel engine of a voice low and sincere, “I don’t know if this makes up for anything, or if it even comes close to it, but I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

Dean doesn’t even really have to think about the decision to fall (less gracefully) to his own knees in front of Cas. He cradles his boyfriend’s (he was never an ex, not for real) face in his hands. “No, Cas. I was… Overreacting. I was still a little weird after lunch with Mom, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He takes a chance and leans forward to peck Cas on the lips. “I’m sorry, I’m kind of an asshole, too.”

Cas lets his eyes fall closed and presses his forehead to Dean’s, his hands landing on Dean’s hips. “It’s okay, I think I started it.”

They stay there, silent, for a few more moments, just soaking one another in, readjusting to the other’s breath and heartbeat and warmth.

When Dean meets Cas’ eyes again, a spark of heat sets off low in his belly. Whether they were fighting or not, Dean  _ craves _ Cas, and nothing about that changed in the week they were apart. His head might have been angry, but his dick never got the memo, and he sees an answering warmth in Cas’ eyes.

_ “Cas,” _ he whispers, voice rough for a different reason. “We should go back to your place.”

“No,” Cas says, his voice deep and just authority-laden enough to make Dean feel all twisty and hot inside. “No,” he says again, moving until his lips are brushing Dean’s ear. “You will finish your shift, and then you will meet me at your house, and you will let me finish making this up to you. Am I clear?”

Dean shudders, letting his eyes close again. “Y… Yeah. Okay.”

The feel of Cas smiling wickedly against his cheek makes Dean whimper softly. “Good.”

* * *

(Understandably) Dean’s shift seems to both speed by and go approximately the rate of molasses. He’s distracted as hell, but since the “reconciliation” was public, everyone knows why. Ellen seems to have to suppress a smile every time she walks by, Jo doesn’t bother suppressing anything, and Ash winks every time his eyes meet Dean’s.

It’s obnoxious, but Dean gets it. He got it when they were trying to be supportive in the aftermath of It, and he understands why they’re excited now. He doesn’t know  _ why _ everyone is so invested in he and Cas, but he’s not examining anything right now. He’s just rolling with the punches so he can get home to Cas.

And if the phrase, “get home to Cas,” makes him giddy enough to rival any high schooler talking about her crush, then he has enough wherewithal to keep that to his damn self.

* * *

Cas is on him as soon as he gets through the door.

Dean’s shoved into a wall, gasping when Cas’ mouth descends on his, kissing him brutally, ravenously, possessively.

“Did you clean the place with a  _ toothbrush?” _ Cas snarls between biting kisses, his hands hard on Dean’s hips.

Dean is already panting, which would be almost embarrassing if Cas wasn’t like some sort of avenging sex god right now, all glowing blue eyes and wild hair and big hands gripping him. “My concentration was  _ shot, _ thanks to  _ someone,” _ he snipes back, a bit too breathlessly to be truly snarky.

Cas grins, and it’s almost feral in the darkness of Dean’s front hallway.  _ “Good.” _

Dean finds himself manhandled into the back bedroom, which he is more than okay with. He’s laughing softly at Cas’ insistence, which does not seem to leave Cas any less intent to mark him up, leaving biting, bruising kisses up and down his neck as he walks Dean backwards into his bedroom.

When the backs of his knees finally hit the bed, Cas pushes him down onto it and stands over him, imperious and sexy and commanding all at once, and the last of Dean’s breath goes  _ whooshing _ right out of his lungs at the sight, the sight of the man he loves so much standing in the moonlight.

Cas kneels and starts unlacing Dean’s boots. When Dean sits up to help, he gets pushed back onto the bed and is greeted with a pointed finger and a cocked eyebrow.

“Don’t move,” Cas intones, his low voice lower than usual with want and emotion.  _ “I’m _ making this up to  _ you.” _

Dean frowns. “Cas, babe, you don’t have to-”

“I know,” Cas says, and there is the gentleness Dean also loves. The gentleness that is in Cas when they went to that goddamn beehive and he gently guided the little creatures away from him, the gentleness that is in Cas when he holds his niece, Michael’s two-year-old. The gentleness that is just as much of Cas as the fierceness is. “I want to.”

Dean stares at him for a moment, then swallows hard, nods, and lays back down to let Cas do what he will (although, it’s worth mentioning that Cas pretty much does what he will every time, anyway).

Cas pulls Dean’s boots and socks off, and contrary to his usual method of placing them somewhere neatly, he tosses them across the room like Dean usually does, a testament to how little he cares about anything but Dean right now.

Cas raises Dean’s left foot and gently places a kiss on the top of it, then does the same with his right. Dean blushes and opens his mouth to protest, but is cut off before he can.

“I know you think you smell when you get home, and I suppose it  _ is _ stronger, but it just smells like  _ you, _ and I have never been able to get enough of it.”

He stands, then, and reaches to pull Dean into sitting up so he can tug his jacket and flannel off. He gently runs his hands through Dean’s hair and tugs his head back so he can bend and kiss him gently. “You’re so gorgeous all the time,” and now there’s a bit of a pout in Cas’ voice. “It’s not fair to the rest of us mere mortals. Who gave you the right to be so goddamn  _ perfect?” _

Dean just grins and winks, to which Cas grins back and kisses him again, harder. Dean knows now that he’s not supposed to talk, that this is how Cas is making up for the things he feels guilty for. Dean figures he’ll have time to make up for his own guilt later.

Cas reaches down and tugs Dean’s shirt off, pushes Dean back to lying down, then stands back and admires Dean in the moonlight shining in through the bedroom window. “Just incredible,” he murmurs, those eyes glowing with lust and pleasure. “Have I ever told you how much I love your shoulders, your chest, your arms? The muscle you carry, it doesn’t come from a gym, it comes from  _ work. _ It comes from caring for yourself, and it’s  _ incredible.” _

Dean blushes at the sincere admiration in Cas’ voice, but keeps his mouth shut.

Cas makes quick work of his belt and his jeans, then hooks his hands into them and his boxers and pulls everything down all at once. The sudden complete exposure makes Dean shudder in delight, and as soon as he’s able, he spreads his legs a bit, so Cas can see everything. He can see, when he sits back up to survey him, how Dean is hard and leaking already, see the blatant invitation in the way Dean’s legs are open for him.

Cas hums in appreciation and runs his hands up Dean’s shins to his knees, then sets his legs open wider. Dean’s realizing that Cas is still dressed completely, still covered in his tux (which he now understands was put on specifically to apologize to him). Somehow, the fact that he’s laid bare and Cas is still covered just adds to the urgency in him, the heat beating in irreversible pattern in his veins. He whimpers.

“I’ve always loved your legs, too,”  Cas murmurs, ignoring Dean’s wordless begging. “I know you’re self-conscious, sometimes, about the way they bow, but I think it’s inexplicably charming.” He places a kiss on the inside of one knee, then the other, and Dean’s blushing again, both from arousal and bashfulness.

“Cas,” he rasps,  _ “please.” _

“Of course, dearest,” Cas says easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he was about to get the show on the road. He reaches beneath Dean’s bed where he knows Dean keeps the lube and condoms in a shoebox (yeah, yeah, Dean’s old enough to put it in a nightstand drawer, but his  _ mother _ stays at his house sometimes, Jesus). He hears the  _ snick _ of the bottle of lube, then only feels the heat of Cas’ mouth as he  _ swallows him whole, goddamn, _ and the cold press of a finger to his rim.

_“Fuck!”_ he cries out, fighting not to thrust into Cas’ mouth, which he knows was the plan, the _bastard._ _“Christ,_ Cas, Jesus fuck, baby-”

Dean babbles helplessly as Cas blows him, lips stretched around him and sucking just hard enough to bring Dean to the edge. When he gathers his wits enough to look down, the sight of Cas, beautiful suit and all, with Dean sliding in and out of his mouth as he preps him, is so obscene Dean has to start naming engine components not to come right then and there.

He’s so invested in Cas’ mouth that he barely notices when Cas has his finger in him, much less when he adds a second or third. All Dean knows, all he’s  _ able _ to know, is that when he thrusts up, he’s in Cas’ mouth, and when he bucks downward, Cas is spearing him open, scissoring and stretching him.

“Cas, please, please,  _ please, _ I wanna come with you inside me,” Dean begs, fingers tugging fruitlessly at Cas’ dark hair.  _ “Please, _ sweetheart.” Still babbling.

Cas pulls off of Dean’s cock with a ridiculously carnal  _ pop! _ His lips are swollen, almost purple in the moonlight, and Dean can’t take his eyes off of him when he grins salaciously. “Of course, dearest,” he repeats, like he hasn’t driven Dean ‘round the bend before he’s even taken his fucking jacket off.

_ “Cas,” _ Dean whines, and Cas finally relents.

He strips too quickly for it to be a real tease, but Dean lies back and enjoys the show (without touching himself, because he knows that he’s about to go off like a goddamn rocket). Cas doesn’t even seem to care about his  _ own _ clothes, just tosses them on the floor next to Dean’s dirty work clothes, and somehow the sight is both really,  _ really _ sexy and manages to warm something deep within Dean. It looks right.

Once Cas is  _ finally _ naked, he bends to get a condom, then manhandles Dean again further up on the bed so he can kneel between his spread legs as he rolls the condom on.

And it’s here, in the slope of Cas’ body as he stands on his knees between Dean’s legs, that Dean can see some of the punk kid that Gabe swears was real and Cas swears that Gabe exaggerates. It’s there in the insolent set of his hips, the dark ink below his ribcage in Enochian  _ (It’s the language of the angels, and they wanted angels when they named us, so here we are.”), _ the leanness of his entire torso, the healed piercings in his eyebrow and ears. It’s incredibly sexy to know that this rebel is buried beneath Cas’ respectable lawyer exterior.

Once Cas is ready, he tucks his arms beneath Dean’s knees and gently adjusts him so he’s open and almost helpless against Cas’ gaze. He knows his hole is red and swollen and slick, much like his cock, and Dean’s eyes roll back in his head a little as Cas surveys him patiently, apparently committing him to memory.

_ “Cas, _ god dammit,  _ please, _ sweetheart, I’m dyin’ over here, I  _ need _ you-”

Some of Dean’s begging finally seems to sink into Cas’ head. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Dean’s mouth, effectively bending him in half (lucky for Dean, eight months of athletic sex with Cas have allowed him to be in this position without discomfort). Dean winds his arms around his boyfriend’s neck to keep him here, to keep him pressed against him, hot skin to hot skin, and whines deep in the back of his throat.

“I love you,” Cas murmurs into his mouth, never really stopping the kiss, just speaking low and reassuring through it. “I love you so much, and  _ you are enough, _ more than enough, you are everything I’ve ever fucking wanted. I’m so sorry, dearest, I love you.”

The combination of Cas cursing (which always turns Dean on in bed) and the endearment he only really calls Dean when they’re alone or in bed (also a turn on, though a more surprising one) has Dean writhing a bit, wishing he had more leverage to fuck himself on Cas’ cock. As it is, all he can do is beg. “I love you, too, it’s okay,  _ please, _ baby-”

Cas finally, finally,  _ finally _ starts to sink into Dean, stealing his breath again and making him shudder with the feeling. Cas is, ahem,  _ gifted _ in the cock department, and it always feels like Dean is being impaled, split wide open, never-gonna-recover spread for Cas.

He loves it.

He groans, long and loud, into Cas’ mouth, shuddering uncontrollably. This isn’t going to last long. Cas seems to feel the same way. He readjusts his grip so his hands are on Dean’s hips, bruisingly hard, and he picks up a slow, steady, absolutely  _ devastating _ pace.

It’s only a short time before Dean’s chest is heaving, trying to haul breath into his lungs as Cas slowly but surely drives him completely batshit insane. Dean is writhing in his hold again, but Cas is deceptively strong for a nerdy lawyer and holds him fast, not letting him hurry this along or rush Cas’ process.

The only thing he does do is let Dean continue to beg and babble, moaning and whimpering when Cas starts to tag his prostate, bringing tears to Dean’s eyes and making his head thrash side to side, completely overwhelmed by everything that is  _ Castiel. _

The sparkly heat at the base of Dean’s spine is starting to climb up his back and down his legs, starting to make him tighten in pleasure as his orgasm builds. “Cas,” he gasps, as coherent as a warning as he can give right now.

Cas smiles against his sweaty temple. Cas is also covered in a fine sheen, the only real sign that he’s as affected as Dean is, the only way his body betrays how totally wrecked he is.

“Go ahead, dearest, come on my cock,” he hisses into Dean’s ear, and that’s it, that’s all she wrote, Dean is  _ done. _ Dean tilts his head back and wails as his orgasm washes over him, blacking out his vision and painting both he and Cas’ chest in thick ropes of white. He’s barely conscious of Cas’ thrusts speeding up and getting harder, but he’s very aware of when, just a few moments after he goes over himself, Cas tilts over the edge and stiffens, pumping the condom full and trembling in Dean’s arms.

When Cas collapses on him, letting his legs fall open limp, the mess between them is the furthest thing from Dean’s mind. He holds his boyfriend close, pressing a kiss to the damp, dark hair on the top of Cas’ head. “I love you,” he whispers roughly, before he’s even caught his breath.

Cas nuzzles his chest. “I love you, too, Dean.”

They’re gonna be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper)


	4. Epilogue

**_A little over a year later…_ **

Things are different, and things are the same.

Cas, Inias, and Hester do leave the big law firm to start their own. The only surprise there is that Sam insists that he go with them. Cas was right, it does mean longer hours, and sometimes they work nights, weekends, or holidays to keep things together. It also means less money, so Cas has to give up his fancy loft apartment.

That’s all right with Dean, since it just makes sense that Cas moves in with him. It makes sense because, not only is it cheaper since Cas doesn’t have to pay rent, it means that Dean is around to make sure he eats and his clothes are washed and all of the other shit that Cas just genuinely does not care about anymore now that he’s doing something he loves.

Dean can’t believe the change in Cas. He’s not inherently different, but he’s more…  _ Cas. _ Instead of suits, he’s always wearing jeans with holes in the knees (unbearably sexy) and novelty t-shirts he gets from God knows where (less hot, but not distractingly so). His hair is still crazy, but he wears his glasses out in public all the time, purely because he forgets they’re on his nose or on his head in the excitement of whatever thing he’s running out the door to complete. His sense of humor is still dry as hell, but it’s more present, more apt to come out when Dean is least suspecting it and leave him in tears from laughter.

Dean still works at the bar and the garage, but things are different there, too.

Different mostly in that, under Dean’s nose, Bobby and Ellen have been seeing one another, apparently for  _ years. _ So they announce, a few days before Dean and Cas’ two year anniversary, that they’re going to go get married and retire somewhere warm. Since no one else knew they were together, either, it came as quite a shock.

Bobby has spoken very seriously to Dean about taking over ownership of the garage. Dean doesn’t admit that he had tears in his eyes when he agreed, and Bobby doesn’t mention it.

Ellen’s giving the bar to Jo, who already knows how to run the damn place, so it’s not like anything but paperwork needs to happen to make it official.

So, things are different, and things are the same.

* * *

Now, they’re in the parking lot of the Roadhouse, seeing Bobby and Ellen off to whatever elopement they plan on (they haven’t told any of them any details). Jo and Dean snuck out and scrawled  _ (about to be) Just Married! _ on Bobby’s old pickup, much to the old man’s irritation and to their own delight.

Ellen is on her toes, pulling Dean down into a hug. “Love you, you big idiot,” she murmurs.

He holds her tight. “Love you, too, Ellen.”

“You take care of that boy of yours, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She lets him go with one last pat, presses a kiss to Jo’s cheek, and climbs into the passenger seat of the truck where Bobby is already waiting.

Cas comes to stand next to him, and Dean pulls him close with an arm around his waist, presses a kiss to his temple. “They look happy,” Cas says thoughtfully.

“I think they are.”

Cas sighs. “It does kind of a put a damper on my proposal plans, though. It’s going to seem like I’m just following Bobby’s lead.”

Far from nervous, like he always thought he would be, Dean’s just amused at the whine in Cas’ voice (and giddy at the thought of a proposal). “You could always wait six months.”

_ “Six months?!” _

Dean presses his lips to Cas’ ear. “Or you could ask me tonight, while we’re sweaty and naked, and we’ll keep it under wraps for a while.” (Dean wants credit for not laughing at the unintended pun, god dammit.)

Cas’ smile shatters Dean into a million pieces and puts him back together at the same time when he leans far enough away to look him in the eye. “Maybe we will, dearest,” he murmurs, for Dean’s ears alone.

* * *

P.S. (They totally do just that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Feedback gets my motor running.  
> \- Come see me on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper)  
> \- Thanks for reading, friends. This was really just meant as a, "Oh god I've never written gay sex what do I do what do I do," exercise, so let me know if it was good!  
> 


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